


Temptation

by justanotherbusyfangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Priest Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 18:58:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17689067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherbusyfangirl/pseuds/justanotherbusyfangirl
Summary: One of Castiel’s parishioners - friends - gives Castiel a certain challenge.





	Temptation

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned,” the voice said, not sounding repenting in the slightest and altogether too familiar.  Castiel sighed.  His day had been long enough, grating enough, to have to deal with this right now.

But this was his job, his life, and he was dedicated to it.

Right?

“Father, are you there?” the voice asked, and Castiel could hear the smile dripping from his face.  He rubbed his fingers on his eyes.

“Yes, my child,” Castiel replied.  “I am here.”

“Damn, Cas,” the voice said, teasing.  “I like it when you call me that.”

Castiel looked up and studied the ceiling of the confession booth, wondering if God was out there somewhere mocking him.  Was God the one who sent Dean Winchester into his life, causing questions to form in Castiel’s mind about everything he’d ever known?

Surely God wasn’t that cruel.

“So look, _Father_ ,” Dean drew out the word a bit to put emphasis on it.  “I have this little problem.  Well, ah, actually,” Dean chuckled, “it’s never _little_ , it’s actually quite big and I’m very happy with it, but the problem is that I can’t _do_ anything about this _little_ problem and it’s driving me quite crazy.  Can’t think about anything else, actually.  It’s distracting me at work, when I drive, when I close my eyes at night in my bed and let my hands move down to my-“

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel hissed, horrified at what Dean was insinuating and terrified that someone was going to overhear.  Which was ridiculous, because really, they were in the confessional booths and where else was someone going to have privacy in the Catholic Church?

Dean was laughing and Castiel was blushing and having to adjust himself in his pants.  Really, God needed to find someone else to torment with cruel, teasing men like Dean Winchester.

“Cas, seriously,” Dean said after a moment of silence.  His voice had lost its lilting tease.  “Can we talk?”

Castiel sighed, rubbing his eyes again.  He really shouldn’t.  He had promised himself he wouldn’t be alone in a room with Dean Winchester until he’d gotten himself under control.  Talking to Dean about _this_ , or anything really, would only lead to the road of temptation.  He shouldn’t do it.

“Please, Cas,” Dean practically whispered, the need and want in his voice evident.

Castiel crumbled.

“Meet me in my office at six, Dean,” Castiel instructed.  That would give him forty more minutes in the confessional booth, forty minutes to calm his mind and soul (and body) before talking to Dean.  And if he was lucky, he would have those forty minutes to himself, as long as no other parishioners came to confess, and he could figure out what he was going to do about this whole situation.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean said, and Castiel heard the door open and close.  He was alone.

Unfortunately he wasn’t alone for very long.  The forty minutes went by exceedingly fast (or were they slower than death?) as parishioner after parishioner came in to confess their sins.  Castiel instructed them on their repentance, their Hail Marys, whatever they needed to hear from him, as though he was a robot reciting instructions.

His heart wasn’t in it.

He dragged his feet on his way from the booth to his office, knowing that Dean would be there waiting for him.  What was he going to do?

His office door creaked heavily, but even at the announcement of his entrance Dean didn’t turn to look.  He was sitting in Castiel’s chair behind his desk, facing the other direction.  Castiel took a deep breath in before taking his time to close the door.

His fingers hesitated on the knob.  Should he lock the door?

No, of course not.  There would be nothing happening in this office that anyone couldn’t see, right?

But what if something _did_ happen, and someone walked in on them?  The creaking of the heavy door couldn’t be enough of a warning system, could it?

His fingers flicked the lock quickly before he could think any longer on it.

Dean still hadn’t turned toward him, so Castiel made his way to his desk.  “Dean,” Castiel said, announcing himself just as much as questioning his friend.

Is that what they were?  Friends?

Of course not, they were much more than that.  That was the problem to begin with.

When Castiel was within a couple steps of Dean (sitting in the high-backed chair) he recognized why Dean hadn’t turned around.

His pants were down around his knees, his leaking cock in hand.  Dean was pleasuring himself in Castiel’s office – _in Castiel’s chair_ – and he didn’t seem to give a single care that Castiel had just walked in the room.

Castiel should have looked away, should have exclaimed his surprise, should have done _something_ …but he couldn’t look away.  Dean was beautiful, the perfect example of a man.  It was only after Castiel had been watching the movement of Dean’s hand for a minute that he realized Dean was also watching Castiel.

And he had a huge smile on his face.

“Like what you see, Cas?” Dean asked, teasingly.  Castiel felt the heat rushing to his face, but he had to admit it was nothing like the throbbing between his own legs.  Yes, he did like it very much, but no he couldn’t do this.

“Dean…” was all that Castiel could get out.  It wasn’t an argument or a reprimand like he wanted it to be.  Instead he sounded… _desperate_.

Dean took his name as an invitation, letting go of his own cock and dropping to his knees on the floor before Castiel.  “Cas, I know you feel it, I know you want it,” Dean said, his hands grabbing the loose cloth of Castiel’s dress pants at the knees.  “I know you think this is wrong, but if it’s so wrong, why does it feel so right?”

Dean held Castiel’s eyes as his hands squeezed Castiel’s thighs, the feeling making his erection jump in his pants.  With Dean’s current position, the movement was at eye-level and Dean licked his lips at the sight.

“I –“ Castiel started, not knowing what words to put together in response.  His mind whirred.

He swallowed, hoping that it would help him think.  It didn’t.

Dean waited patiently, his hands on Castiel’s thighs and his cock leaking directly onto the floor.  The sight was gorgeous from where Castiel stood and it made his heart race.

“I don’t know what to do,” Castiel admitted.  He decided to let Dean interpret his words, because Castiel knew they could be understood two different ways.

Would Dean think Castiel didn’t know what to do about their relationship?  Or would Dean think Castiel didn’t know what to do about their current situation?

Dean made the decision quickly.

“I’ll show you exactly what to do, Cas,” Dean murmured, his hands sliding up to Castiel’s belt.  Castiel sighed in response.  Dean would take charge, Castiel could follow.  Castiel would do anything for Dean, and he knew the same could be said for the opposite.

“I’ll show you,” Dean repeated, undoing Castiel’s pants and letting them fall to the floor, “and then you can show me what you learn.”

Dean’s fingers tugged gently at Castiel’s boxers without pulling them down, waiting to unwrap the rest of Castiel until he had full permission.  It was one of the things Castiel loved the most about Dean, how he always let Castiel have the final choice.

Castiel tucked his thumbs in the waistband and pushed his boxers down, letting Dean get an eyeful of his erection.

“Teach me,” Castiel ordered, the last coherent thing he said for quite some time.

Dean was _quite_ the teacher, and Castiel was sure to repay him properly.


End file.
